


The waves of your heart

by MGB



Series: For All the Times [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MGB/pseuds/MGB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <img/>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <b>Lindsey: </b>
  <i>
    <q>I mean, take Gus. He needs me to feed him, to... change him. Knowing that tells me I'm alive. So for me, right now, it's him.</q>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <b>Brian: </b>
  <i>
    <q>What about me? </q>
  </i>
</p><p>Though never intending to let his inner most thoughts caress the pages of the pricey journal given to him, Brian allows himself to be vulnerable and totally honest with himself for short moments in time, if only so in his own mind.</p><p>Set post Season 1, Episode 22</p>
            </blockquote>





	The waves of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally betaed by f_ckinginibiza, but a few corrections have been made after. Any and all mistakes remaining are my own.
> 
> Banner by me (incl. drawing).

**Lindsey:** " _I mean, take Gus. He needs me to feed him, to... change him. Knowing that tells me I'm alive. So for me, right now, it's him._ "

**Brian:** " _What about me?_ "

_Queer as Folk (US)_  
Season 1, Episode 4  


  


Beep… Beep… Beep…

I find myself here again, hypnotized by the beeps from the machine. One turns into ten, twenty, a hundred…  
The waves of your heart make their way across the screen and I can’t help but to silently pray —to whom I don’t know— that your heart will always be like the ocean, its waves never ending, its depth and intensity overwhelming and forever pure, all-encompassing and strong. 

I keep telling myself it’s the lack of sleep, the drugs and I’m even contemplating acknowledging the nurses suspicions on PTSD as true, anything to explain why I find myself here night after night, a nearly empty book in my hand waiting for anything, something to change.  
I open the book to one of the very few pages with anything on it; it’s a drawing surpassing its original, a photo, in beauty. My boys… There you are, cradling my son in your arms and me admiring you two from over your shoulder.  
I remember Lindsay giving me that photo, telling me how I should have it as undisputable evidence that love is real, that nothing in the world can deny the pure look of love for my son I have in it. I know you love that photo, that you agree, but, you see, you are both wrong. Yeah, my gaze is one of love, but not only for my son. Looking at your rendition of the photo, made with such perfection in every caress of the pencil, the one thing I see —feel more than anything other— is my love for you. And though I doubt you will ever hear me say it, no matter the amount of years or decades of your life I hope will come to pass , I sense you know it’s there nonetheless.  
In the silence of the night, with my thoughts as my only company, I can acknowledge it —the truth— at least to myself. I do… I do love you. 

I watch a wave on its journey across the screen only to be followed by another one. Sunshine… I’ve seen it, I know why, but seeing the waves on the screen I once again think of you as the ocean. Just like water, you seeped through the smallest of cracks in my walls and with every wave caused by you, you sweep away a grain of sand —of bull— accumulated through the years, my hopes and dreams shattered, smashed to grains of dust by fists and hurtful words, one by one. I find that I now, just like I need water to survive, need you. And just like the ocean you’re blue, the light in your eyes, and the glow of your pale skin under the lights above my bed against the blue of my sheets. 

I remember my old professor’s words on the meaning of the different colors, what they symbolize, how you use them to evoke certain feelings with an ad.  
Blue – the color of boys, artistic energy, compassion, inner strength, royalty, water, purity, sky, calm, peace, knowledge, power, integrity, seriousness and will-power, in English also used as sadness, but in German as being drunk. Well, even that I can understand. I’ve never felt so intoxicated and high as I did that night, dancing with you. So, although your smile is pure sunshine I can’t help but to think of you as blue. My Blue…  
I look up from the drawing and that’s how I feel, blue, returning to reality, seeing you fighting demons in your sleep, a sleep that won’t let you go. A sleep where nothing I do can make it better.

Footsteps make their way down the hall, looking up I see the night nurse briefing the morning nurse before signing off. Time for me to go home, shower and go to work, to face another day alone as the uncaring asshole that cares more than anyone will ever know, but in silence, waiting for you to feel that I need you, to let that tell you you’re alive.  
I need you to show me what to do with all these feelings I set free prom night… To help me handle the memories. I need you to hold me, ignore my fits about cuddling I can’t find an ounce of strength to actually mean and lie to me, to tell me everything will be alright. I just… I need you.

I close the book, the book you gave me with the words “For all the times you’re NOT thinking of me” on its cover in gold. Yet another night, full off thoughts I’ll never tell a living soul or write down on these empty pages for anyone to read.


End file.
